


Five Times Silva Tells Dad Jokes and the One Time it Kills

by vitrifica



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: 5+1 Things, Daddy issues?, Family Bonding, Gen, Nanika included, Pun-ishment, Sibling Bonding, Silva Loves His Kids, Zoldyck Family Drama, aren't all dads tho, attempt at dad jokes, awkward assassinations, comedy-impaired Silva, funny?, i can't tell anymore, killing with jokes, why isn't that a more popular tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitrifica/pseuds/vitrifica
Summary: "I know jokes."Illumi physically turns to look at him, skeptical."Oh, Silva. Dear rich, strong, hunk of masculinity Silva." Hisoka skips around, hanging off his folded arms. "You are many things darling, but funny isn't one of them."---------------OR the one where Silva tries to make his kids laugh and they freak out about it.
Relationships: Hisoka & Illumi Zoldyck, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Silva & Zoldyck Family, blink and you miss it killugon
Comments: 29
Kudos: 188





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahem. *coughs* Testing 1, 2, 3. *taps mic, _feedback screech*_
> 
> Hello, and welcome to my comedy set consisting entirely of dad jokes. Hopefully not bad jokes but you know how closely related those two are, eh? Eh?
> 
> _*internet crickets followed by a tsunami of eye rolls*_
> 
> As a warning, I can get rather graphic when he's killing it, but not too squick, and it's for _atmosphere_ darlings. Most of the blood is in part 1 and the +1 if you wish to avoid it. Otherwise, we're in soft general territory. 
> 
> Happy Father's Day!

1.

If Siva had known the clown was going to tag along, he probably wouldn't have invited Illumi in the first place.

Father-son time was difficult to come by on the best of days— the business of death didn't exactly encourage teamwork. But Silva always enjoyed the jobs he could justify requesting family assistance. Call him sentimental, he loved spending time with his kids. Illumi was especially great to work with— efficient to a fault, responsible, quiet…

"Hey, Illumi," Hisoka grins, kneecapping one of their unfortunate targets, "What do you call a man who can't stand?"

Illumi looks from him to the squirming mobster and back, expressionless. "Weak?"

"No, Neil!" the clown cackles, slapping Silva in his laughter. To his surprise, Illumi cracks a petrifying smile.

Silva stands, retracting his claws as Neil writhes on the pavement of the alleyway, screaming in pain. _How unprofessional_.

With Hisoka, it’s not unusual for there to be more casualties than originally ordered. But his son, smiling? That, he hasn’t seen in years. Not since little Illumi’s first taste of bloodshed...

How could a simple thing like a name make him smile?

"I don't get it."

Wiping tears from his eyes, Hisoka glances over. "Oh, ha, no. Of course you don't. It's called a _joke,_ Silva darling, they're all the rage these days."

 _Humor?_ Silva breaks the neck of the kneeling man, pondering. "I know jokes."

Illumi physically turns to look at him, skeptical.

"Oh, Silva. Dear rich, strong, hunk of masculinity Silva." Hisoka skips around, hanging off Silva's arms like he’s a tree made for climbing. Silva tries to shake him, but he clings like a leech. "You are many things darling, but funny isn't one of them."

He beams at Silva's huff of disgust, prancing away to kick an escaping man over. "Surprising, really. Being a dad and all. Is it true that he's never even told a dad joke before, dearest?"

Illumi shakes his head, face returning to a well-trained impassive expressionless wall as he slits a throat. _At least someone was taking their job seriously—_

"How sad. He'd be the complete package if funny were in the mix." The clown smirks. "Good thing he's got such a hot dad bod tho, amirite?"

Illumi deadpans. "I think of it more as a father figure."

As the clown rolls on the blood-stained pavement and Illumi’s grin wrinkles up his face, Silva thinks that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t quite understand humor anymore. He’s never had good reason to be funny— what place would funny even have in the assassination trade? He kills the last target and frowns.

His son looks, happy. Eyes brighter than he’s ever seen them, triggering something deep in his guts. Illumi has never smiled at anything he’s said. Never. Come to think of it, have any of his children?

Well. He could fix that. After all, he is a world-class master assassin—if he put his mind to it, he could learn anything. Comedy should be a breeze.

-

Humming under his breath, he hunches over the tiny computer in their family office, scrolling through pages upon pages of jokes. His forehead wrinkles. _These were funny?_

"What the hell is _updog_?" he mutters. There's no answer listed, it's just the word. _Updog._

He jots it down in a small notebook anyways. Someone obviously found it funny enough to put online.

 _Maybe Milluki would know_ …

 _Hm._ He has got a few of these so-called "jokes" he'd like to test out anyways. _Maybe he'd even make the boy laugh…_

2.

Milluki's room lies deep within the Zoldyck manor, nestled in the labyrinth of dungeons and torture chambers of the sub-basement. 

Embarrassingly, Silva knocks at two (thankfully unoccupied) dungeons before he arrives at the right door. Really, he should have known it by the faint hum of electronics and eerie blue light emanating from the cracks in the door frame, but half the rooms down here had some strange noise and glow associated with them.

" _It's called atmosphere, dearest. Prisoners expect that kind of thing nowadays._" He hadn't argued with Kikyo, just footed the bill and let her decorate as she pleased. Whatever made his precious wife happy—and little Milluki had been so excited to help renovate too…

"Father?"

Speak of the devil. Milluki's cheetos-stained face peers around the corner of his cracked door. "What are you doing here?"

Silva smiles. "Milluki! I thought we could chat."

He groans, closing the door. "I'm not taking any jobs—" Silva jams his hand in the crack before it disappears.

"No, no, nothing like that. Might I come in?"

Milluki blanches, glancing quickly to his open browsers, eyes sweeping over a couple of select dolls he hasn't quite finished deflating, not to mention the mountains of otaku trash lining the floor…

"NOPE. No. Not gonna happen. Go away."

Milluki is surprisingly strong when he wants to be. Silva strains against the door, trying to push through. "Won't take a minute, just let, me, IN—"

"No!" Milluki shoves back, struggling to hold his ground. Panicking when Silva starts to make actual headway, he rushes forward, exiting and shutting the door behind him so quickly that Silva actually takes a defensive stance.

He spreads out like an exhausted starfish, barring entry, staring Silva down with a slight wheeze.

Little does he know, Silva has never lost a staring contest in his life.

Milluki twitches after a mere few minutes. "Ugh, FINE. I need more snacks anyway. Let's talk in the kitchen!" He sets off at a trot, sweat stains visible on his track suit even in the dim light of the dungeon corridor.

\--

Snacks are more than abundant in the Zoldyck kitchen. To Milluki's disappointment, Silva sends out the wait staff before he can order them to make anything good. He sighs pointedly before trudging over to the fridge.

Silva ignores his blatant whinging. "So, Milluki. I have a question for you."

Milluki emerges with a full chocolate cake and a jug of milk, joining him at the counter. "I gathered as much," he sighs, lumbering onto a creaky stool. "What?"

He clears his throat, squinting over his tiny notebook. _Ah, here's a good one…_

"Have you joined the Phantom Troupe behind my back?"

Milluki chokes mid-cake. "What?! No, Dad, I would never—"

"Because those Spiders you know, they're so smart, always hanging out on the web. Just like you!" He allows himself a small smile at the clever word play. _Nailed it._

Milluki won't stop coughing, face red, eyes wide and confused.

Was that how he laughed now? Silva hands him the milk. "Alright there, my boy?"

"M'good!" he finally wheezes, pulling out an inhaler and taking a puff. "Are _you_ okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine." He frowns. Now he felt foolish. "Can I get you anything?"

Milluki looks like he's trying to work out a complicated formula without a calculator. For some reason, he inspects Silva with gyo before pushing the cake aside, brow furrowing.

"Actually," he squints, folding his hands together on the countertop, "You could make me a sandwich. Mother always makes me one when we talk."

Silva glances to the door where the butlers are hiding, waiting for his command to reappear. _Ah, but what's a little sandwich?_ Even he knew how to make one of those. "Of course, my son."

Stepping up to the bread box, he pulls out two slices. But then, he pauses.

 _This,_ he thinks, _is exactly the kind of situation a Master of Comedy would take advantage of…_

Marching straight back, he slaps the bread on either side of his incredulous son's face.

"There. You are a sandwich!" he grins. He didn't even need to look at the notebook.

-

In that moment, Milluki decides he's never leaving his room, ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to hug your father figures!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N know what tags I forgot? Female pronouns for Alluka/Nanika and male pronouns for Kalluto. I don't explore the trans/fluid/+ aspects so much in this dad-joke-centered fic (but I love reading those fics, so like, give me more of that) #diversity in fiction #translivesmatter  
> anyway that's all hope you enjoy reading!

3.

When Killua left home with Alluka, he made them promise to send updates. It’s important to keep in touch with your children—especially when one of them is bound to a cosmic horror of unspeakable power.

Their infrequent, staticky calls from burner phones were easily the highlights of his month.

"—and then this kid right, this kid jumps off the cliff! Like he thinks he can save Alluka when she is _literally_ wearing a parachute. But _obviously_ I couldn't just let him fall, so long story short I need a new pair of yo-yos and we have a goat now."

Silva finds himself smiling as Killua chatters on, Alluka and Nanika's soft voices cutting and weaving through the background hum.

"Oh, and Alluka wants me to tell you the goat's name is _Baa_ -ka, like idiot— but like if a goat were saying it, you know?"

"Hm. Is that a pun?"

"Yeah, I think so, anyway we were gonna check out Zaban City next week, but I don't know if there are any places with stables in town, so we're gonna leave him at a farm. Nanika's not too happy about it though, she really likes him."

"Hmm, we've done a few jobs around that region, there should be a man called Yagi that can help you out." Silva scans through the family favour list on the desk, eye catching on the calendar. "Wait, when do you arrive?"

"Um, probably Tuesday—"

Silva grins. "Excellent! It seems our paths will cross; I am scheduled in Zaban next week. Let us meet up, it has been too long since I have seen your faces."

"What? No, that's not a good idea—" He's cut off by a scuffle, Alluka's voice hissing indignantly. The phone crackles as it changes hands.

"Sorry Father, what Killua MEANT to say was YES, of course we'd love to see you!"

His heart swells at her enthusiasm. "I look forward to it. How has your training been going?"

"It's going so well; I finally got my shadow step down! We visited this old monastery with creaky floors last week to try it out and OH my gosh they gave me the most amazing outfit, like you would not believe how pretty it is. I'll wear it but you _need_ to wear your fancy black one when you come, like the shiny one with the red belt so we can be matchy and _eee_ this is going to be amazing Nanika can't wait to see you again and— hey no I'M TALKING TO FATHER—"

Killua takes the phone as Alluka protests. "Sorry about that. When can we expect you?"

Silva suppresses a chuckle at Killua's business-like tone, pulling up his schedule. "Oh, I should be in on the 4:00 flight."

"Good. Let's meet downtown."

Alluka’s voice echoes loud in the background. “Remember the suit!”

He can almost hear Killua rolling his eyes through the phone. "We'll call you later."

He nods, about to hang up when it hits him. He sits up straighter in his chair.

"Don't call me later, call me Father!"

There's an embarrassingly long pause on the other end of the line. _Hmm_. Killua was a bit of a late bloomer, maybe it was taking a while for his comedic mastery to sink in…

"…Right. Sure, Father. Bye."

4.

He hears them first, bustling mid-argument through the thick crowds of the market. Stepping from the dark interior of an expensive rental car, he waves them over, beaming at Alluka's shout as she tugs her brother along, black and red ribbons bouncing in her hair.

"Father! You made it!"

He smiles, opening his arms. "Of course. I gave my word." He glances over her shoulder and Killua nods, wary, eyes darting at every movement around their little bubble. _So protective._ "Did you have a safe journey?"

"Yeah, we caught a ride with this really nice farmer, " she steps back, pouting, "But it was a really long ride and Killua won't let me have any samples in the market because they " _might be poisoned_ " and I'm starving!"

His eyes flash and he mutters "Hi starving, I'm Father," under his breath, remembering the line from his research. But Alluka doesn't catch it, rattling off more complaints as Killua argues that _he had to test them since she didn't receive the same level of poison training, it's not his fault the vendors have a sample limit,_ and so on.

"Oh! Nanika has a gift for you!" Her face shifts, orifices sinking to black. She pulls an equally black flower from thin air, atmospheric pressure popping in his ears.

He keeps smiling, cautious. "Oh. How nice." The entity's void of a mouth contorts into what he hopes is a smile, hands raising the bloom. Kneeling, he grasps the prickly stem as Nanika giggles and blushes. "Thank you."

It's taken a few months of conversations and lots of self-reflection, but his anxieties surrounding Nanika are getting better. For both Killua and Alluka's sakes, he wants to accept the eldritch being, but it's difficult to stop a knot of nerves from forming in his gut. It's been a while since he's seen them in person.

He wonders, briefly, if ~~the thing~~ _she_ would understand his jokes.

He tucks the flower behind his ear. "How do I look?"

Her mouth opens wider. " _Pretty!"_

"We should get moving before the street vendors mob us again." Killua says, pushing them towards the car. "Where're we going?"

He holds the door as they pile onto the leather seats. "I thought we might get dinner, though I wasn't sure where."

"So… no reservations?" Killua asks, already typing in a search on his phone for nearby restaurants.

"Oh no," Silva's joints creak as he settles beside Alluka and signals the driver to start, "We have _all_ the reservations. Take your pick."

Alluka hums, impressed. "Well let's go to the closest place, I'm so hungry I could eat a small child."

Silva glances sidelong at his daughter as she starts braiding the rose into his hair, the knot in his guts tightening. _None of the restaurants he knew served children._ He hoped it wouldn't be an issue with Nanika. Killua keeps scrolling on his phone, not-so-subtly texting between searches, unaware of the blush spreading over his cheeks. Must be texting that special friend of his, what's his face, Jong or Geo, he can't remember the name...

They haven't been driving for long when Alluka screeches, leaning over to press against the window. "STOP THE CAR!" She points and squeals.

If worms had been given a building permit, it might begin to describe the crime against architecture before them. The tie-dye outrage of colors burns like an after-image on his retinas. "What is it?" 

Killua squints over, "Oh. We really don't—It's just this place me and Gon took her a while back, nothing special."

"It's the most magical food land we've ever been to and nothing will ever compare." Her eyes sparkle as they drive closer, pulling up beside the jumble of multi-colored tubing and grime-stained concrete. Golden arches tower above the doors.

"But it's not—really, Father, it's just cheap stuff, I don't even know if you can call it food—"

" _Father, please give us McDonalds!_ " Nanika's breath fogs up the glass.

Silva tenses. "Driver, take us through. Now."

One drive-thru later, their hands and mouths are occupied with burgers, fries, and chocolate milkshakes. The food is, indeed, questionable at best. Some severe mental gymnastics are needed to even call this styrofoam semblance of a meal food. He half thinks about drowning the chef in the grease he could wring from the fries alone. At least the milkshake is good; mind-numbingly sweet and smooth with chocolate. Killua may disagree with him on a few things in life, but chocolate certainly isn't one of them. Most of his kids inherited his sweet tooth.

He swirls the shake like fine wine, letting it melt on his tongue in the calm moment. _Perfection._

"Do you know," he muses, "about the origin story of the milkshake?"

Killua and Alluka speak through fries. "No, what—"

"It is said to be legend-dairy."

Shock isn't exactly the reaction he was going for, but both Killua and Alluka bear it on their faces. At least the driver has the decency to chuckle, complimenting him with a "Good one, sir."

Not even Nanika will spare him a smile the rest of the evening, his children whispering anxiously behind his back.

5.

It's a pleasant surprise when he comes home to find Kalluto curled up on the sofa, devouring a pile of books from their library. Almost like they never left.

"You're back." The fireplace crackles. Kalluto looks up from his blanket cocoon— a copy of _Fangirl_ in hand —and gives a wave.

"I left my reports on your desk," he says, turning back to his book as Silva relaxes into his favorite armchair. "There've been a few minor power shifts, but nothing serious."

Silva hums at him to continue and Kalluto sighs, book flopping against his chest.

"Could you pass me a bookmark?"

How could he resist? "My name is Silva. Not Mark."

Kalluto blinks, slow and meticulous. "Yes. I know your name, Father. I was asking you for a placeholder." He gestures to the small tray of bookmarks on the side table, unfolding his legs and stretching. "What did you want to know?"

Silva’s forehead creases. Was he being too subtle? Did none of his children know funny when they heard it? Kalluto was probably the most well-read of all his children, unless you counted Milluki’s consumption of the internet. Even if no one else had his sense of humour, Kalluto should at least recognize his jokes as, well, _jokes_.

He tosses a bookmark over. "Have you, ahem, have you read that book about anti-gravity, Kalluto?"

"Which one?"

"I hear it's impossible to put down." His face stretches into a grin, though it feels more like a grimace at this point, worry gnawing at his temples.

Kalluto stares back without the hint of a smile. "Are you alright, Father?"

His smile slips. "No, I'm half-left." Kalluto remains an unreadable wall.

Maybe Hisoka was right. Maybe he wasn't funny.

He sighs. "Never mind. I'll leave you to it." Getting up, he trudges out of the room towards his office. There should be a job or two there to help clear his head.

-

Kalluto watches as he leaves, concern weighing heavy behind his delicate brow. He glances curiously at the small abandoned notebook on Silva's armchair, forgotten in his sad exit.

Generally, he doesn't like to start new books unless he's finished reading the ones he's got. But he's nearly finished _Fangirl_ anyways… He leafs open the tiny notepad. Silva's scratchy text is barely legible, but far more interesting— so many assassination tips and tricks!

It's only when he comes to the most recent pages that he pauses. Re-reads. Frowns in confusion. Snaps a picture and sends it to his siblings.

They all agree this needs to be fixed immediately, arranging to meet up later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my editing is never done ಥ_ಥ  
> (˵ ಥ ਊ ಥ˵)ᕗ but I must keep on for sibling reunions and ultimate dad jokes!  
> I swear I meant to have this done today but it's taking me forever to focus, anyway I hope you enjoyed that. Final bit should be up in a day or two. I need a break, words have lost all meaning ..φ(ｰ￣*)


	3. +1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tailing Father with the whole gang

+1.

"Stop pushing!"

"Then move. What's he doing now?"

"Could you pass the binoculars?"

"SHHH! Where the heck did you learn espionage?"

"Let me see—hey!"

All five Zoldyck children are crammed together on the roof of an abandoned office building overlooking the pier. There's really only one person's worth of good cover available—and Milluki is sitting in it, nigh unbudgeable, though it's not like the others haven’t tried. Below, a large crime ring is bringing in a shipment, completely unaware of the huge target on their backs.

"Do you see him yet?"

"No. Wait… No—hey give it back!" Milluki hisses as Illumi swipes his laptop away.

"I think he's close, I can hear waves." Kalluto’s eyes are shut, his small hands clutching a paper doll cut-out of their father.

If the crime lords were listening for it, they might have heard echoes of the young Zoldyck's arguments. But that wasn't who they should be listening for.

The glint of a shadow passes between two guards on the outskirts of the loading dock. No one hears their screams—they simply drop to the pavement, heads gliding with a slorp from their necks. Blood runs down the dark pier, virtually undetectable in the lacklustre sea glow. Then again, the next set of fatalities isn’t exactly paying good attention.

"There!" Alluka points, shaking Kalluto from his concentration. Her eyes sparkle.

Milluki lets go of Illumi, who lands delicately on his feet and turns, laptop still in hand. Killua steps closer to the edge. All strain to watch the quiet carnage unfolding below them.

" _Wow_."

-

Silva moves from target to target with practiced hand, cleanly removing heads and hearts without so much as a whimper. He sighs. It's almost too easy.

Stopping in front of the most promising-looking opponent, he lets them attempt a strike. Their punch is sloppy, unbalanced, nen amateurish. He dodges easily, grabbing their arm and twisting until it snaps. They scream. _Disappointing._

Around twenty new targets rush up, pausing when they notice the massacre surrounding them.

"Don't just stand there, you idiots! Get him!" Ah. So this pathetic brute was a leader.

He waits. Nobody moves. Quirking his head, he rips off the crime lord's arm, waving it at them. "Do you need a hand to get started?"

One of them faints. 

Throwing the screaming leader at the group, Silva jumps back and takes a defensive stance, arm in hand. He takes a moment to consider how the crime boss is going to manage in his business now, liberated from his left arm as he is. A Master of Comedy might answer, single-handedly. Silva grins at the thought.

Maybe his kids don't understand his humor. But who said he couldn't have a little fun on his own?

The first attackers rush in, knives and guns at the ready. He parries with the severed limb, dodging bullets and shouting "Stay back! I'm armed and dangerous!"

-

Back on the roof, his children watch in mute horror.

"Was that… a joke?" Killua's face is paler than his hair.

"No, it couldn't have been." Illumi starts pacing. "He doesn't know jokes."

Milluki rubs at his eyes. "This is worse than I thought. We can't let people hear him saying stuff like that. What about our reputation?"

Kalluto frowns at the small paper facsimile of their father. "You're absolutely sure that's him? He didn't get replaced by some, I don't know, shapeshifting clown?"

"I checked! It's definitely him," Milluki scoffs. "I bet it's a weird curse."

" _Iie."_ Nanika shakes her head, face shifting as Alluka resurfaces. "No curses. Maybe he's just trying something new?"

"But Father doesn't just " _try something new",_ " Killua air quotes, "This is weird."

"Wait." Illumi stops pacing. "I think I know what this is. We must act quickly."

-

Three targets remain. Two of them are still standing, but only by virtue of their defense. Somehow, the crime lord hasn't quite bled out yet, hiding under a pile of bodies. Silva rolls his shoulders back, cracking a stiff neck before settling his sights on the stockier mobster.

"What do you call a man with no body," he steps closer, "and no nose?"

Their legs tremble from the effort of keeping Silva at bay. "Please don't—!"

With a flicker he's behind them, grasping at their clammy neck. They start hyperventilating, tears streaming down their cheeks. He leans in close, grinning like a maniac to whisper the answer.

_"Nobody knows."_

The other target scrabbles back with a cry of revulsion as he detaches head from body and nose from head. A few feet away, the one-armed leader holds his breath, still failing to fool Silva into thinking he's already dead.

"Father!"

The remaining target almost looks relieved. "Oh thank gods—"

Illumi cuts her off with a pin to the forehead.

Silva looks up in surprise as his children approach. He thought he'd heard their voices earlier. Strange for them to be so loud. Dropping the corpse, he wipes entrails off his hands, straightening up. "I had that. What are you all doing here?"

Killua speaks first, "Listen, Father—"

"You know that we love you," Illumi interrupts, pushing an indignant Killua out of the way, "and you're very important to us—"

"You're the best!" Alluka chimes in.

"—but we can't help but notice you've been going through some, changes lately."

"Normal changes." Kalluto clarifies.

"Jokes are not normal changes." Killua whispers, earning a punch in the arm from Alluka and the collective glares of his siblings.

Milluki takes over, sighing and bringing up a page on his phone. "We know that at this critical point in your life, you may be experiencing a transition of sorts. Questioning your identity, your self-confidence or whatever. But like, we support you, 100%..."

Silva studies them, not quite grasping the situation. A breeze from the sea blows in, salt air brushing away the scent of death. Everyone is staring in his direction, eyes critical and cautious. It's uncomfortable in a way he's never experienced, which is saying something when he's endured nearly every form of torture imaginable.

[Under the pile of his dismembered colleagues, the crime lord continues holding his breath. This isn’t how he pictured the end. Still, he almost feels sorry for Silva, remembering his own mid-life crisis intervention. It must be nice, having kids that care so much.]

"…so please, come home. We'll take care of the important jobs until you figure this out."

Milluki is finished talking. Really, Silva would like nothing better than to just go somewhere dark and empty to puzzle over everything they just read him from a Wikipedia article. Maybe figure out why they think it applies to him. But there's one thing they've said, one thing above all else, that’s flooding through the rest of his thoughts.

"You knew they were jokes? Why didn't you laugh?"

All of them take a sudden interest in the ground, guilt worming under their skin.

Failure isn't something he's tasted in years. It's acrid and cool, dissolving in his bloodstream like a numbing agent. Seeps low in his bones, and he knows. He always knew, really.

His kids don’t think he’s funny.

“Wait,” Illumi’s face twists, confused. “You were trying to make us laugh? Why?” He’s got the same distressed crinkle around his eyes that his precious wife Kikyo gets when she's worried about him or the children. Silva hasn't seen that look in a long time.

He sighs, turning to go. “Can’t a father want to see his kids happy?” Maybe he could go drown someone with his troubles. Someone with kids, they’d understand...the ocean’s not too cold tonight.

“Hold on, Father.” Kalluto grabs at his pant leg before he can leave. Sweet Kalluto. "Don’t go. We’re sorry, we, um." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, there's still one guy left. Shouldn't we make sure he's, uh, _properly_ _disarmed?_ " He coughs loudly, earning the perplexed stares of his siblings. Silva feels perplexed too.

An origami star comes out of nowhere and hits Killua square in the forehead. Kalluto is mouthing something at Killua, gesturing none too subtly at the pile of victims by his feet. Realization lights up Killua’s face when he gets it, hands diving into the pile and dragging out the whimpering one-armed-blue-faced mob boss.

"I guess we should make sure this guy is, um, _all right_." he says, grinning an encouraging grin. 

Milluki and Alluka wince but plaster on small matching smiles.

Silva stares between them and the nearly dead crime lord. Were they being serious?

In the grand scheme of things what did it matter? He’s spending rare quality time with _all_ of his kids. Time he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

He contemplates the cowering man before reaching out and removing the right leg.

Kalluto and Killua's strained smiles fall, "Wait, that doesn't—"

He grins, "Ha. I'm just, what's the phrase, 'pulling his leg'." He slices off another limb before stepping back and assessing his work. "You know, he’d make an excellent right-hand man."

The one-limbed man stares in numb agony at the sky; flabbergasted and bleeding out rapidly. 

To his surprise, Silva hears a giggle. Three black holes swirl back at him, smiling. _At least someone in the family likes his jokes._

The rest of the Zoldyck children smile for real as Nanika takes his hand. Illumi nods.

"Good one, Father. Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (⁎·́෴·̀)◞ ͂͂(˒̩̩̥́௰˓̩̩̥̀⁎) gosh that was fun. 
> 
> Want a dad joke for the road? I have so many but this is my fave that didn't fit:
> 
> What did the policeman say to his bellybutton?  
>  _You're under a vest_
> 
> Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed leave a kudos or comment or something, (maybe a dad joke? seriously I have an addiction pls help feed it) (♡´౪`♡)


End file.
